by Morgan Rae
I grab his lunchbox and the three of us make it out the door just in time. His yellow bus pulls up to the curve and comes to a hissing stop right outside. We race to the bus and I can’t stop fussing with his hair and his backpack.
“You got this, champ,” Maya says as we get to the door.
I crouch down and give him his lunch box. “Do you have anything you need?” I ask. “Your pencils? Your books?”
“Yes and yes,” he says.
I look at him and tears start to fill my eyes. “What did I do to deserve such a perfect little man?” I ask.
The corners of his mouth twist. “No mushy stuff, Mommy.”
“Right, of course. Forehead kiss.” I lean down and I tilt my forehead against his briefly as he returns it. Then I sneak in a kiss before he can pull away and I watch as Ben scrambles up the stairs and into the bus.
My eyes follow Ben as he finds a seat and stares out the window. I grin and wave frantically as though he’s a big time movie star. He shyly waves back as the bus starts to pull away.
Maya chuckles. “Five years old and he’s already too cool for his mama.”
“I miss him already,” I whine. “Is school over yet?”
Maya nudges me with her elbow. “Too bad M.M. isn’t here to see this.”
“Mystery Man” is her pet name for Ben’s father, who I’ve told her little to nothing about over the years. Tribal space man just doesn’t roll off the tongue. She teases me about him occasionally. The mystery man who knocked me up while she was on her trip to Ireland. The hot hunk to turned my world upside down.
If only she knew.
The yellow square finally disappears down the road and we both head back inside. I start to clean up the peanut butter mess I’ve left on the counter when Maya stops me.
“Leave it, Mama,” she says. “I’ve got this. You go catch a couple Z’s before Ben gets out.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
She gives me the look. Her Mother Maya look. “You look like a zombie. Go.”
Relief sinks into my shoulders. “Thanks,” I say. “I owe you.”
She’s got a point. I barely sleep these days. Every time I close my eyes, I’m plagued with flashes of images. I see Kurah fighting and bloodshed. It always ends the same way, Garock sliced through with a sword and there’s nothing I can do about it. I left that world, but that world refuses to leave me. Faron’s nightmares flicker through my head and even years later, there’s still nothing I can do to turn them off.
I go upstairs and flop down unceremoniously in my bed. Lying next to me are my markups for our next book. Even if I can’t turn off the nightmares, I can make something out of them. Maya and I finally got our line of children’s books off the ground. She writes and I illustrate. They do well, too. Spaceboy and the Spirit Tree. Spaceboy and the Monkey King. I open up the book and flip through a couple pages. There are memories in each of these pages, the rolling hills, the twin suns, the castle in the mountain.
I reach into my pocket and feel the ascension stone slip through my fingers. It’s a soothing thing now, Ben calls it my wishing stone. It’s something I can hold onto and touch that reminds me that everything I went through, the Kurah, the Seer, Faron, Garock, all of it wasn’t just some figment of my overactive imagination. It’s not just pages of a children’s book, it was real and I was there.
The ascension stone hums under my fingertip and I set it on the bedside table. The mattress sinks under my weight and my eyelids go heavy. In this hazy state between consciousness and unconsciousness, I allow my mind to drift to places I don’t normally let it go during the hectic daytime. Garock rises to the surface of my mind. I imagine he’s here, climbing into bed with me. With my eyes closed, I can even feel the mattress shift under his weight as he positions himself on top of me. He tilts down and the scruff from his beard brushes against my cheek. His kiss feels warm and wet in the crook of my neck.
“Where are you hiding, my Goddess?” I can feel his hot breath as he murmurs against my skin.
“Right here,” I whisper back. “Waiting.”
His large hand undoes the button of my jeans and pulls down the zipper before sliding underneath the denim. His fingers dip under my underwear and curl over my sex. He presses a single finger between my slit and instantly, I’m soaking wet. “Waiting,” he says. “And wanting.”
“Yes,” I gasp. I’m pent up and my body vibrates with pleasure as he drums his fingers against my slick petals. I jut my hips into his hand, desperate for the friction. His fingers tease me at first and he draws small, concentrated circles around my swollen nub until my thighs shake. Then, when I can’t take it anymore, panting for breath and biting back whimpers, he presses his fingers deep inside of me.
I groan. His fingers hit deep inside of me and I push my hips into his hand, wanting him deeper, wanting him. But he’s not going to give his steel hard cock to me, not yet. This is for my pleasure alone and he strokes his fingers inside of me, hitting that spot that sends bursts of ecstasy through my blood.
I’m so close, my body contracts around his fingers and I whimper, my legs quivering. But I want something more. I’m there, stuck in this delicious agony, and I shut my eyes tightly as my breath catches.
I feel the warmth of his humming Kaul as his energy trickles down his fingers and into me. It sends waves of hot pleasure through me and, finally, I’m able to let go.
I bite my lip to keep from crying out as my orgasm hits me. My legs go stiff, heels dig into the mattress, and I moan and ride it out. My fingers flick my clitoris a little longer, trying to get that final, satisfying, hard throb, but it never comes. My orgasm simply fizzles and dies as quickly as it came and I’m left panting, buzzing, and only somewhat satisfied. I pull my sticky fingers out of my pants and try to collect myself.
Fantasy is good. But fantasy, I have learned, can only keep a girl afloat for so long. After she’s burned through the batteries of her vibrator and cramped up her fingers, she needs a real, hard man between her legs.
Only I don’t need any man, I need my man. I drop my head to the side and my eyes fall on the ascension stone on the table beside me.
Truth be told, every now and then, I’m tempted to hold it, close my eyes, and say the words and send myself back through the vortex. As if maybe, with luck, I’ll fall out another Spirit Tree and right back into Garock’s arms.
But I’ve shelved those dreams and put them far back in my head. I can’t think that way anymore. Their world is dangerous. The Kurah are warriors that only know how to fight. I can’t and I won’t subject my son to that. Not Ben, who wouldn’t hurt a fly. My Ben who only plays with plastic swords instead of real ones and who falls asleep every night in a plush bed instead of on a woven rug.
There are some nights I wonder about him. Those nights I catch him staring up at the stars as though he’s lost in thought and I wonder, does he know?
Time to turn my brain off. I get up, wash my own stickiness from my hands, and drop my pants. I dive back in bed, pull the covers up over my head, and try to hide in a restless sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: GAROCK
I duck underneath low hanging moss as I stalk through the swampy Lowlands. The air is thick here and it hangs in my lungs and mists my vision. I can hear nothing but the croaking and buzzing from the swamp animals, but I keep my attention alert, my muscles coiled for action.
Swing hums at my side, vibrating.
“What do you feel, Swing?” I murmur. I unsheathe her and the blade glints in a sliver of sunlight peaking in through the heavy foliage. A skirmish with a Selith knight separated me from the battle and I cannot even hear the clang of metal on metal or the Kurah war cries anymore. I am alone, but I am not a target. I am strong, so long as I have my weapon at my side.
I ignite my Kaul and the warm energy ripples over my skin and wraps around my blade. The handle of Swing grows bright as our energies connect. I can feel the heaviness of her steel a
nd I can taste the sharp metal of her blade. We are one now and the Selith will have to face the both of us if they plan to take me down.
I go still, hold my breath, and wait. They are here.
I see him only a mere second before he charges at me. The Selith knight whips out from behind a tree and swipes his long sword at me. I deflect the hit with Swing and our blades clang loudly, slicing through the stillness of the swamp. I shove him back and he nearly topples but keeps his footing at the last moment.
I size him up in the moment it takes him to regain his balance. The cut of his cloth suggests a higher rank, Lieutenant. He wears no helmet, but metal spikes rise up from his shoulders and around his neck to deflect the swipe of a blade. Beheading is not an option. I will have to find another way in.
The Selith are light on their feet and graceful with their swords, practiced and precise. But we Kurah have raw strength on own side and years of combat experience. While they were playing with tin swords, we were fighting tooth and nail to keep our hold on our territory. They have known nothing but luxury; we have known nothing but struggle.
Faron made a mistake in taking my Goddess from me. He thought he would destroy my will. He has only given me something to fight for. And I will fight, hard. I throw myself at the Selith and swipe my axe. He steps out of the way once, then again as I swing at him a second time, and the tip of blade pricks under my arm.
I roar and hack at him again, and again. Brush and branches fall around us when Swing swipes through them like butter. The Selith grows overwhelmed by the force of my attack and loses his footing against a hard oak tree. His sword falls from his grip and, when he scrambles to grab it, I step on his wrist to keep him in place. He screams out underneath me.
“If you have a God or Goddess to pray to,” I tell him, “Now would be the time.”
“I spit on your false gods!” the Selith hisses.
blinded by rage I make a fatal mistake. My eyes look into his and linger there. His irises flash violet and I immediately feel the pull of his Dreamgift. I cannot move and I cannot look away. My vision feels pulled through a tunnel and all I can see are his eyes.
Step off of me, the Selith says without moving his lips. I hear his voice in my head and, though I grit my teeth and strain with effort, I find myself stepping backwards. I release the Selith and he stands, brushing the dirt from his tunic. My fingers grip Swing tightly and I vibrate with the urge to kill him.
He lifts his sword and smiles at me. “I thought it would be harder to kill you,” he says. “The great Chief Garock of the Kurah. Either the stories they tell of you are all fantasy or…” He holds his blade to my throat now. As long as his eyes do not leave mine, there is nothing I can do now. I cannot move, I cannot lift my arm to kill him. All I can do is remain still and let him kill me.
He smiles as he watches me struggle. “You’ve lost your touch, Chief. Your anger makes you weak. Never mind,” his blade closes in on my throat and the sharp edge breaks skin. “I will take all that pain from you.”
A horn bellows in the distance. The loud brassy sound breaks the Selith’s concentration and he tears his gaze away from me towards the noise. His mistake. The Dreamgift is broken and his control over me snaps like a twig. Immediately, I shove myself against him and throw the Selith to the ground. He topples backwards with a cry and I raise Swing up high.
“Stop!” he cries out and holds both his palms towards me pleadingly. “The horn! The battle is over!”
I hear it, the low echoing blow, the trilling trumpet of defeat. The Selith have conceded this battle. Tomorrow is another day ripe for the taking, but today, there will be no more bloodshed.
Still, Swing hangs in the air. The Selith on the ground trembles with fear when I fail to lower it immediately.
My vengeance is unending and the temptation to wipe another Selith from the face of Naruda is strong. Bloodlust beats in my veins like the rhythm of a tin drum. They have taken Kennedy, and for every night that falls without her in my arms I will take one of theirs.
But not this day. I lower my axe and extinguish my burning Kaul.
“Leave,” I tell the Selith. “Tell Faron what you have witnessed today. Tell him that the day he tastes the steel of my axe is swiftly approaching.”
The Selith sputters on words of gratitude as he scrambles to his feet and dashes off through the trees. I roll my shoulders back. The battle high is wearing off, my muscles feel stiff and sore.
Swing hums at my side. I turn and spot something shimmering on the grass below. It must have fallen from the retreating Selith. I lean down and pick it up between my fingers. It’s a stone, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. Black, smooth, and shiny.
This is not any stone. I can feel the magic emanating from it. My heart beats faster in my chest when I realize what it is, an ascension stone. The same stone the Seliths use to travel from place to place in an instant. Relief overwhelms me. I grip my fingers tightly around the stone, get on one knee, and bow my head.
It has been a long time since I have felt peace like this.
“Thank you, Goddess,” I murmur. “May those who have fallen today find peace at your breast. I will use your gift to end this war once and for all.”
I open my eyes and stare down at the black stone in my hand. “I am coming to find you, my Goddess.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR: GAROCK
As I make my way back to camp, I get a full view of the cost of this last battle. Both Kurah and Selith bodies lie motionless on the ground, watering the swamplands with their blood. The Selith left quickly once the battle was called, but my men and women have stayed to tend to our wounded and collect our fallen warriors.
War with the Selith has been long and bloody. With each battle, my Tribe slays more of their men, yet, we are still losing ground. They have beaten us back into the Lowlands with its swampy lands, overgrown trees, and strange creatures that lurk in the dark. The Lowlands have been a trial unto themselves, but my people are warriors. We are strong, and we are nothing if not survivors. Many have traded in their bows and arrows for axes. We have covered our bodies in moss-colored clothes to hide our glowing Kauls from prying eyes. We learned how to fight in the shadows as well as we fight on high ground.
We nearly lost everything after Faron took the Goddess from us. The Selith burned many of our tents down in an ambush. We have rebuilt sturdier tents in the Lowlands. We pack them with dirt, which keeps them cooler on the inside and, more importantly, makes them harder to burn.
When I approach the huts, Leyana finishes her discussion with the medicine man and comes to me. Her arm has already been bandaged, but she looks otherwise unharmed from the battle. Her face will always wear the mark of the first ambush, however. Her flesh is burned and blackened along the side of her face, like a shadow, a memory written in her skin of the moment she attempted to save our brothers and sisters from the burning tents. We all did the best we could that day, but we lost many.
Leyana comes up, her eyebrows knit in concern. “You’re wounded,” she says as she lifts my arm. The side of my tunic is dark with blood and I grimace when she lays her hand on it.
“Never mind that,” I tell her. “We have more important things at hand.” I open my palm and show her the ascension stone.
Surprise flickers across her eyes. “Where did you find that?”
“I took it off one of their Lieutenants. I’m going to use it to find the Goddess.”
Leyana grips my shoulder and drops her voice so only I can hear her. “Chief I know how much she means to you. I want to find her, too, but we need you here. The Selith surrendered this battle, but you know they will only come at us stronger next time.”
“And you will be there to meet them.” I see the argument building in her eyes, so I stop her with, “I am not the leader I was. The Kurah need a strong leader now more than ever.” I cover her shoulder with my hand. “They need you, Leyana.”
She is stubborn, but her
jaw sets and her eyes turn resolute. “Find your little bird,” Leyana says. “And come back to us in one piece, yeah?”
I cup the back of her head and touch my forehead to hers briefly before pulling back. Now that my tribe is in good hands, I turn my attention to the stone. It shimmers as I turn it between my fingers.
“Take me to my Goddess,” I tell the stone.
A midst rises under my feet and swirls around me. Leyana takes a step back and watches with unease. I catch sight of her for the last time before the world around me begins to blur.
“Garock,” Leyana calls out her final warning. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Before I can respond, the air is swept out of my lungs and a bright, white light blinds my vision.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: KENNEDY
I wake up from my nap before my alarm ever goes off. It’s been twenty minutes, but it felt like twenty days. My body is still making up for lost REM cycles, but it’ll take what it can get at this point, and I feel refreshed, revived, and reborn. Like a zombie taking its first steps out of the coffin, I ease my legs over the bed, crack my bones, and shake some of the tangles out of my hair.
I still have three hours before the bus drops Ben back off. I map out my day in my head. I find it’s easier to live like this, not day by day, but hour by hour. If I can make a plan to get through one hour, I can get through the next I’m fine as long as I keep moving. Once I stop and think, that’s when things get dangerous. That’s when the memories come back, the pangs of loneliness and regret, followed by the weekly discussion group query: will Kennedy lose her mind today?
I keep it all together, I have to, for Ben. Some days are harder than others, but failure isn’t an option. Weakness isn’t an option. Not when I have one beautiful, smart, good-hearted boy on the line.
So, one foot in front of the other. Hustle, Kennedy.
I get to my feet and go to work. There’s laundry to be washed, toys to be picked up, and dinner to be prepped. I’m on the last item of my checklist when T-Bone saunters up to me. He wiggles, pants, and dances in a couple purposeful circles. Doggy sign language for it’s time to take him for a walk.